Rise - Part Two (Rise #2)(5)

"What about tomorrow?" He turns to the side when he hears one of the women behind him scream his name. "I can pick you up early. We could have breakfast at that little place on the Upper East Side. I can't remember the name right now, but I remember the food."

I remember everything about it, including the stains on the light blue tablecloth and the scent of dark coffee that wafted through the air. The waitress had commented on how in love we were and as we shared a breakfast of poached eggs and toast, we'd promised each other that we'd eat there each time we were back in the city.

"I'm not interested, Ansel," I mutter. "I don't want to see you again."

"You don't mean that," he says hoarsely. "I just want to talk, Tess. Just give me that chance."

I don't respond. I can't. My gaze is riveted to the growing group of women who are milling about behind us. They've all turned to the right. I look in the same direction, curious about what has taken their interest away from Ansel.

I feel a smile pulling on the corners of my mouth as I see him approaching. He's walking faster than he usually does, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. He's wearing the same clothing he did when he kissed me goodbye on the street in front of his apartment last night. It's Landon and right now, the only person in the world I want to talk to is him.





Chapter 4


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In life there are experiences you want to avoid. I've been told, or actually I've read in countless women's magazines, that being in the same place with an ex-boyfriend and a current boyfriend, or lover, is one of those experiences. The advice may serve you well if one of those men isn't mature, well-mannered and completely confident. Luckily for me, Landon is every one of those things and more.

"You two are seeing each other?" Ansel asks the question with a little too much apprehension in his tone and with not enough eye contact with Landon. He's actually darting his gaze from my face to where Landon rested his hand around my shoulder after he kissed me on my cheek.

"Tess and I are dating," Landon offers.

"Dating?" Ansel repeats back as he rubs his hand over his bristled chin. "You're dating Tess?"

I'd absorb the words as an insult based solely on the disgusted look on his face if I didn't know him any better. Ansel's uncomfortable and when that happens he reverts back to the teenage boy I first met. He can't hide his emotions if he's upset and judging by the way he's tapping his leather boot against the sidewalk, I'd wager a guess that he's about to march away in a huff. Unless he's gained a boatload of emotional maturity since I saw him in Milan, his need to shut down and leave when he feels overwhelmed is kicking in.

"I am." Landon cocks a brow. "We've been getting to know each other. She's amazing."

Ansel's feet shuffle slightly in place. "Tess is a great girl."

"She's an incredible woman," Landon corrects him with a ghost of a grin. "She's one of the most fascinating people I've ever met."

I watch Ansel's expression knowing that at any second he's going to feign an excuse about having to leave so he can meet a fan or he'll say he needs to get back to the recording studio. He's not above plugging his own career, even if it's in the middle of a desperate attempt to get away from an emotionally charged situation.

"I actually have to go." He waves his hand over my head. "I'm meeting my New York fan club."

Landon and I turn in the direction he's pointing. The large group that had been gathered across the street must have decided that waiting longer than ten minutes for a chance to talk to Ansel was long enough. Only a handful of women remain now and as one catches a glimpse of Ansel looking towards her, she yells his name.

"That's my cue." His hand leaps awkwardly in the air towards Landon before he abruptly pulls it back. "It was good to see you, Tess and to meet you too."

I sigh in relief as he finally brushes past me, leaving me alone with the man whose touch I've been craving all day.

***

"I'm not saying this to be facetious," he pauses before he continues. "I've got nothing against the guy but where's the appeal?"

I cock both brows as I work to stifle a laugh. "You're asking me what's appealing about Ansel? If you are, I am the wrong person to ask."

He digs his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. "You dated him. Was he always like that?"

"Like what?" I ask as I watch him lean forward to hand a few bills to the taxi driver as the car pulls up to the curb in front of his apartment.

"Like that," he repeats back. "You know what I mean."

I do know what he means and I also know that he's been trying to lighten the mood since he hailed a taxi for us. He'd pulled my hand into his after we'd settled in the car and as the driver maneuvered through the late afternoon traffic, I hadn't asked Landon about his father.

He hadn't spoken much either except for a mumbled apology about not answering my calls earlier because he was busy with the police. He simply held onto me as his thumb stroked the palm of my hand. It was a quiet gesture and even though I thought I needed more, it satiated everything within me. The connection between us is palpable. I feel that now more than ever.